Losing You
by theatrekid02
Summary: "How could she leave him for three years and only write half a sheet of paper for consolation? But he supposed that didn't matter as much. Rachel needed to see him. Not wanted to see him, needed." A two-parter story in which Will reunites with a long-lost Rachel, and Rachel reveals why she left in the first place. Schueberry. REVIEWS P/TY :)
1. Part One

Part One|

Twilight had begun to set outside the kitchen window, and a low hum of rush-hour traffic only numbed the grunginess of a dirty shirt and the aftertaste of a stale beer. That, and he was guilty of spending a perfectly mild June day entirely in the comforts of his messy apartment. But, despite his resentment of it all, this pitiful state was one for the past three years Will Schuester could've called a regular Saturday night.

Until upon breaking his gaze with the beer bottle label, something caught his eye.

An envelope, sitting on his counter, jutted out barely from a stack of bills and junk mail. It was scarcely off-white; blush, almost pink colored. The tone, minimal even, contrasted with the regular whites and beiges.

Will hadn't noticed it the night before when retrieving his mail in the apartment-building lobby. Yes, he hadn't even bothered to look at the mail regardless, but leaned there against the wall, he wondered how he could've possibly missed it.

Especially when the handwriting on the envelope, the few letters he could see anyway, was chillingly familiar. The bold, rounded, and somehow determined-looking print of one Rachel Berry.

 _Rachel_. The name echoed through his mind with a hollow sound, sending shivers up his spine. Many, _many_ , times a day that name made itself known in Will's subconscious, but no occasion had left quite the affect as it did then. What, with possible traces of the girl herself sitting a mere three feet in front of him.

Will lifted the envelope carefully, almost as if it'd disintegrate and make him realize the thing was only a spectrum of his imagination, a mirage. But it didn't turn to dust, and when the name on it confirmed what he'd originally suspected, _nay_ , desired, the glee club director stood there frozen in place.

It was legitimately from Rachel Berry.

Rachel Berry, who had fled Lima a long-gone April night, not telling anyone where to and not even graduated from high school.

Rachel Berry, who they couldn't report as a missing person because she technically _was_ eighteen years old and left a note behind affirming she hadn't been abducted.

Rachel Berry, who had tearfully confessed to her teacher a month prior to it that she wasn't over her 'school girl crush', and apparently never had been.

Rachel Berry, who had slept with said teacher that very same night.

Will absolutely hated thinking about it, then especially. He'd never wanted to cross that line, he'd never wanted to be _that_ male teacher. It all happened so fast, neither of them were thinking. Too drunk on emotion, too passion-filled for their own good. And then it was over, they were laying on the hard choir room floor, and Will had never felt so filthy. Not because of the sex, but because he'd taken advantage of a student in a horrible way, even if he did have feelings for her.

"What have I done?" she had whispered, taking the words right out of his mouth. "God, I'm so stupid, I can't be doing this! I'm going to ruin your entire career!"

Will had lay there, almost agape, as he turned his head to look at her. He'd expected her to lash out and blame it all on him. Never, had he thought Rachel Berry would put him and his consequences before herself. But then it progressed.

"Why did you let this happen?!" she had continued angrily. "You just took my virginity and you're my goddamn teacher! I should've kept my big mouth shut, I should've never let my feelings get in the way of your job. And you let it happen! You hardly even tried to stop me!"

Will had sat up next to Rachel and tried to take her hand, but she pulled it away.

"Rachel, I am so, so sorry," he'd said softly, his face not letting on how his heart was breaking. "I'm so sorry it had to be like this."

"Don't you see, Will?" she'd choked out, tears threatening to spill onto her flushed face. "It's never going to be the same between us. _I'm_ never going to be the same."

And she wasn't for the remaining few weeks. Will sighed, tracing the edge of the envelope, seeing so clearly her dimmed brown eyes and sagged shoulders. He remembered the way their eyes would catch sometimes, and it was almost like telepathy. _I'm so sorry_ , his would plead _. I don't forgive you_ , hers would return. It'd been like that every day until she was gone, suddenly.

Puck was the first at McKinley to know, after her dads announced it to their synagogue. The news hadn't taken long to spread after that, nor did the rumors that followed. When Will found out about her, the first thought that came into his head had been, not surprisingly, 'It's all my fault.'

And it was the same thought ringing in his head as he stood there, just staring at the thing. Her own gentle hands had touched that same surface, her own careful handwriting was deliberately put onto something meant for him, him exclusively.

It only occurred to Will moments later that something was inside of it.

Opening the envelope, he was startled by the sharp scent of her perfume; a smell he had almost forgotten, but was so familiar that thousands of tiny memories flooded his brain instantaneously, giving him a head rush. Had three years really been that long? Will lifted the paper to his nose and inhaled slow, savoring it. Rachel must have sprayed it with her perfume, or drowned more like. The little devil. Was she trying to drive him insane?

Then he opened his eyes and they fell onto the handwriting once again, but more of it. It was a letter.

A letter! His stomach lurched. With raised eyebrows, Will blinked hard and internally scolded himself. Of course it was a letter, what else could it have been? With his eyes adjusting to the print, he drank in every word.

'Will-

This is a long shot, given I have no idea about your whereabouts or personal life for the past three years. If you are not William Schuester, please respect my privacy and stop reading, and forward this to him if you can.

If you're still reading this, I'm assuming you are Will. So...Will. Where do I even begin? You'd of thought three years of building up courage would prepare me to compose a half-decent letter. Anyway, I plan on keeping this short and to the point, so here goes, I guess.

Well...I need to see you. My address is on the envelope that this came in. Don't tell ANYONE where I am; I can't face anyone from Lima, save for you. And quite frankly, I probably can't face you either. But just come, okay? I'll be home after three on any day. And Will? I'm really sorry about this whole mess. I shouldn't of blamed you like I did.

Sincerely,

Rachel Barbra Berry

P.S) I understand if you don't want to see me. It's okay.'

His hands were trembling as they held the neatly folded paper. Will read it over again twice, three times, four. He found nothing on the backside, much to his disappointment. How could she leave him for three years and only write half a sheet of paper for consolation? But he supposed that didn't matter as much. Rachel needed to see him. Not _wanted_ to see him, _needed_. Will then remembered the part about the return address and snatched the ripped envelope.

Rachel Berry

201 N. Rochester St.

Apartment 13

Chicago, IL

60290

So she was in Chicago. All this time, and Rachel had been a mere four hours away. Some part of Will had always assumed that she was up in NYC, but then again she might've thought it to be an obvious place to find her. He couldn't help but wonder what she was even doing in Chicago, how she made a living. Evidently she made enough to keep an apartment. What would she say when he showed up? What would she look like? He could scarcely believe she even thought for a second of him not wanting to come.

Then Will felt his heart begin to race and he hadn't even wrapped his mind around the idea of it all. Of seeing the one person he had missed so greatly for such a long time. And he knew, right away, he knew couldn't possibly wait until the morning, couldn't possibly sleep with this information.

With a back-handed wipe of his mouth and a jingling snatch of keys from the counter, Will was gone.


	2. Part Two

Part Two|

It was ten o'clock at night and Will was a white guy in a Prius driving through a not-so-great part of Chicago. But he didn't care so much about the dangerous factor of it. He was more worried about confronting Rachel Berry in her home at ten o'clock at night.

His head felt light with anticipation when he pulled into the apartment building's parking lot. It was a plain building that looked on the weary side. Will actually found himself grateful that it was built like a double-decker motel, because he wouldn't of known how to explain himself to any receptionist in a lobby. 'Hello, I'm visiting one of my former students I slept with once at this time in the night. Don't mind me.'

So he parked the car and stepped out into the crisp night air, surveying the place. Seven doors on bottom, seven doors on top. That would make Rachel's the second to last on the top. And he was really about to see her. Rachel.

 _Plink. Plink. Plink._ Will's footsteps echoed on the metal stairs and landing. Seven, he counted passing the doors, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Thirteen. He found himself in the same position he was about four hours earlier, frozen in place. The brown door had paint chipping off it and the cheap metallic knob looked a little rusty. Yet a woman as special as Rachel used it everyday, he marveled, and she was waiting behind it.

Will's fist felt heavy when he lifted it. He hesitated, gave a tentative three knocks, and let his eyes drift to the ground. Only a few seconds had passed, yet he was starting to feel impatient. What if she was asleep? What if she wasn't home?

But then he heard a click and saw the bottom corner he'd been looking at move and then it was done, the door was open.

Will looked up and a woman stood before him; he felt his eyes widen. She almost had the same reaction.

"Will," the woman whispered.

He didn't immediately recognize her as Rachel Berry. The Rachel Berry he knew had a childish look to her face. She had long brown hair kept silky and straight. She wore knee socks and miniskirts with sweaters. She had almost an arrogant, yet energizing vibe about her. This woman, even as she was startled by him, seemed so much more easygoing. Her face looked mature. She was squeezing her wet shoulder-length hair with a ratty towel. She wore a Les Miserables tee shirt and pajama pants. She looked thin and pale in contrast to how Will remembered her.

But it dawned on him that this stranger was, indeed, Rachel. His Rachel.

Before Will could say anything, she dropped the towel and she wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her small head against his chest. He held her tightly and kissed her damp hair, feeling her begin to shake. Will was afraid he would cry right there. After three long years of being consumed by that heavy guilt, he was actually holding the person who caused it all. The person he had wanted to hold for such a dreadfully long time.

"I missed you so much," he said, muffled into her hair.

"You have no idea," she quietly replied.

They stood there for awhile before Rachel broke away with a sad smile.

"Well um, this is where I live. Make yourself at home," she said, gesturing to the limp looking couch and coffee table that was her living room. "I'll be right back, I have to go turn off the sink."

Will watched her disappear around a corner and took the brief time to look around. The apartment was very small, the front room being a dinky kitchen with a little strip of carpet for the couch. A wall went out a little bit giving the living room two sides to pass off as a mock hallway, but it really was part of the bathroom. Two other doors behind the wall were the rest, and Will guessed one was her room and one was a closet or pantry.

Rachel returned from the bathroom. She sat on the other edge of the couch and pulled her knees up to her chest.

"How's Lima?" she asked, breaking the silence. "What have I missed?"

He sighed. "Well uh, not much actually. Finn's been helping me out with glee club, it's getting pretty big. We won Nationals again last year."

"Really?" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "Will, that's fantastic."

"They're not as great as you guys were, you know," he said solemnly as he looked up from his hands.

Rachel smiled bashfully. "How is everyone, anyway?"

Will sighed again. "Oh, you know, off places being successful. Rach, the real question is how are _you_?" He took her hand and looked at her with kind eyes.

She nodded. "I'm fine. After I left, I started waitressing down here and I finished my diploma online. So, if you were wondering, no. I'm _not_ a high school dropout."

He chuckled at this. "Of course not," he said, "Rachel Berry doesn't let anything get in her way."

She smiled again. "I currently waitress at the Parthenon downtown. It pays well, for waitressing. And I try to fit in as many auditions as possible," she continued.

"How's that going?" Will asked.

Immediately, Rachel flashed her old familiar 24-watt grin and he felt his chest begin to swell.

"I just finished playing Eponine down at the Chicago Theatre," she announced, pinching her shirt for gratification.

"Oh my god, Rach, that's so great!" he said. "I'm so happy for you, I'm so happy you're doing well."

Rachel's expression faded into a more serious one. She turned herself faced toward him and crossed her legs on the cheap couch cushion. "Will," she began slowly, "I'm sorry to say that my role in Les Mis isn't the reason I needed to talk to you."

This change of tone surprised Will, and confused him. As Rachel tried to choose her words, he looked hard at her face and tried to read it. What possibly could be wrong?

But before Will could decipher her expression, something moved in the corner of his eye, behind Rachel peeking out from the wall.

A little girl.

A tiny little blonde-haired girl standing there in a set of pink pajamas. She had drowsy eyes and sucked her thumb while she watched them shyly.

Will's face dropped.

Rachel saw this and turned around to find what he was looking at. She said nothing, motioning with her hand for the child to come into the room.

"You had a baby," he whispered, disbelieving.

Rachel pulled the toddler onto her lap silently. "This is Julie. Named after my third favorite Broadway legend Dame Julie Andrews."

"You had a baby," Will repeated.

"She'll be three next January," Rachel added quietly.

Millions of thoughts raced through his head and Will couldn't even begin to comprehend the fact that _Rachel Berry was a mother._ After all these years, she had been taking care of a _child_. A living, breathing, human.

"Rachel, I..." he trailed off. "Have you told your parents? I- I didn't realize that you're seeing someone."

That particular element hurt Will, in a way he didn't want to admit. Rachel played with Julie's miniature fingers, ashamedly.

"I haven't spoken to my dads since I ran away. And actually, I'm not seeing anyone. I left Julie's father before she was born." She looked up to meet his sad eyes.

"I left him back in Lima."

Will stared at her with a blank expression. "Rachel," he finally said, "please don't tell me Puck is-"

"She's yours, Will," Rachel hindered, a tear falling into Julie's hair.

His breath caught in his throat. He forgot how to breathe. Surely Will hadn't heard her correctly, surely he was mistaken. But wildly searching her face, he got a sinking feeling and he slowly started to understand.

He was a father.

The little girl sitting before him was of his own creation. Half of him. Will, while wasting three years of his life blindly directing a glee club and wallowing in his own drunken filth, had a daughter four hours away that he never even knew of. He had missed almost three years of her life. Will would never watch his daughter come into the world. Never would he hear her first words, see her first steps. Hell, he'd already missed two birthdays. Why in the world had Rachel done this to him?

"She...I'm..." he stammered, on the verge of panic.

"I'm so sorry, Will," she sobbed, covering her face. "I-"

"You- you're telling me," he interrupted stiffly, "you're telling me all this time I've had a _kid_? I have a kid..." he finished gently, feeling the words roll off his tongue for the first time.

She wiped her eyes. "I hate how this ended up. I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now."

Painstakingly, his eyes drifted from the baby's sleepy face and up to hers.

"Why did you do this to me?" he whispered sharply, feeling his eyes already start to well up. "How could you be so _cruel_?"

Rachel sniffled. "I...Will, I couldn't face you, how could I?" she trembled. "I thought you would hate me, I thought you would make me get rid of it."

Will looked deflated. "Rachel..."

"And I knew how everyone would treat me, I knew how my dads would react. I knew that you would always have this guilt over me, Will. I didn't want that," she finished.

His eyes burning, Will gave almost a sadistic laugh. "You don't think I have guilt? You don't think I spend every single _worthless_ night drowning in liquor because of you? You don't think it's _your_ face I see before I fall asleep, _and_ when I wake up, you don't think our- our last conversation is replaying in my head constantly? Like a goddamn broken record, Rachel! I have had _nothing_ but guilt since you left! I've known it was my fault from the beginning!"

Her hands were covering her face again and she wept silently, while Julie stared at Will with round brown eyes. She nudged Rachel.

"Daddy," she said.

Will's fiery glower softened.

"Did she just-"

"Is that daddy?" Julie asked Rachel, squirming in her lap. Rachel sniffled again and giggled a little at the look on his face.

"Yup," she told her. "That's daddy."

Will gazed at Rachel with a delighted expression. "How-"

"I show her pictures everyday, of course," she cut in. "She needs to know who her father is."

And that was when ol' Mr. Emotional finally started to cry, fat sticky tears, blubbering like a sissy. Julie, in all of her innocence, put her little arms around his neck and hugged him. This gave Will a start. He clutched his daughter's back and held her so tight like he could never let go.

When he looked up at Rachel from Julie's shoulder, she wiped a tear from his cheek. "She looks so much like you, Will," she said serenely. "Everyday I see her little face and it kills me inside because it's like looking right at you."

Will lifted the now-sleeping child up and cradled her against his warm chest. "Why do I suddenly feel like Forrest Gump?"

Rachel laughed loudly at this; he felt his heart beat just as noisily, perhaps.

"Rach," he began, "losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I'm not doing it again, not either of you."

She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly on the mouth, and a bolt of electricity sped through their blood. Julie slept peacefully beneath their embrace. Somewhere in Chicago, in a shabby little apartment on the wrong side of town, all was right with the world.

~fin~


End file.
